


Little Deaths

by Mollovespandas



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:26:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollovespandas/pseuds/Mollovespandas
Summary: hicomments and kudos are SO appreciatedreviews, good and bad, are completely welcomethis story is about mortality and ryan rossthank you for your timealsoooo i originally published this on wattpad-mhm





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oof thanks for reading!

I tried to tell Brent that I couldn't drive, but he wouldn't listen. He kept shaking his head at me and giggling while his hair flopped back and forth. I swear I would have punched him if it wouldn't have broken my fist. To be fair, it wouldn’t break on account of his strength- just the lack of mine.

He had a responsibility to stay sober that night, and he really blew it. For once, something wasn't my fault- Brent, Spencer, and Jon had gotten hammered completely under their own volition. The only time I ever got drunk was before a gig or two. Even then, it was responsible. It just eased me into the whole twenty-person crowd situation a little more. I never got drunk when it had bad consequences. I mean, not more than a handful of times, anyway. Everyone makes mistakes. Still, it was good judgment when I told them not to get so fucking wasted, but my good, good friends clearly did not think that was the case. They couldn't think at all, apparently, or even walk. So, with the most dramatic sigh manageable, I dragged them both out to the car.

It had been sort of a while since I'd driven. Probably too long. I hoped my instincts would kick in to help my driving abilities because it had started to seem like a dangerous situation. Despite that, the air was clawing me towards the car. I regretting ever coming to this party. It was one more miscellany of almost washed-up rock stars and druggies-in-training. All four of us probably fell in the former category despite our band having barely even picked up.

"Dude, you don't even like vegetables!" Jon giggled. I heaved another sigh and rolled my eyes.

“Jesus Christ, you guys. Get in the fucking car." Between the size of Jon’s car and the amount of space they took up with their bodies and their laughter, it seemed more like a clown car than anything else.

I sat in the driver's seat and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. My palms felt clammy, so I tried to wipe them on my jeans. The alcohol was the only thing keeping them from trembling.

My three favorite buffoons clamored in the backseat, still cracking up at nothing of relevance or sense.

My legs were just too close to me. I had to adjust the seat.

Seat belt: check. I put the key in the ignition.

Mirrors! I had forgotten to check my mirrors. I leaned out to be completely sure that they were at a proper angle. At least, what I thought was a proper angle if I remembered correctly.

I'd only had one drink, after all. It wasn't like I forgot my own name. I could definitely still drive.

I was one of those kids who didn't pass his driver's test until junior year because it scared him too much. I put it off while I was sixteen and pretended that I was too busy at band practice. That was back when we were in Pet Salamander, also known as the kings of bad haircuts and pitiful fashion. Spencer thought it was the coolest band name ever. Brent seemed kind of huffy about it, but we still settled with the name. There were plenty of nights throughout all the bands we started and ended that we spent stealing beer from our parents and camping out in Spencer's garage. Three years had really flown by, yet there I was again with my drunk bandmates. Some things don't change.

I started up the car and cautiously glided onto the road. Finally, I began to shake the eerie feeling. It really had appeared out of nowhere. Despite the chilly air, the night was clear. It felt nice to ride under the stars with the car motor singing a gentle hum to overpower the fading voices from the backseat.

It hit me then that these were definitely the best friends I could have picked in the whole world. Jon was a random guy from Chicago who liked the Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, and the Beatles more than anyone I knew, but he didn’t rub it in that his music taste was superior or anything. I think that's why he was so successful at letting it creep into everybody’s lives. Before long, we all knew the Sgt. Pepper album from front to back. He was one of the few people who could make me laugh so hard that I was actually convinced I'd get abs. He dressed like a hippie, and he smoked like one, too.

Spencer was equally as lovable. He worried me a little sometimes when he got quiet, but when he smiled, the room glowed. I knew him as well as I knew the Sgt. Pepper album. The two of us had grown up together, and nothing brings kids closer than communally suffering through that special hell called high school. I couldn't stay mad at them for too long. That was probably just because their laughter had ceased. Brent had gone to high school with us too. We were all misfits together. He was the black sheep of the band, and always had his own thing going on. Jon had once said that letting him in the band was charity work, but he never knew him like Spencer and I did. Besides, Jon always laughed at Brent’s never-ending dick jokes.

I couldn't help smiling. Sometimes it just got to me- I really did have a good thing going with this band despite my dad thinking otherwise. I didn't want to think about him, anyway. For now, all I had to worry about were the three people I loved most. My real family.

They had fallen asleep in the back of the car once we were almost the hotel. I was feeling rather tired myself, and the lull of their breath and the car's engine just about put me to sleep.

I turned down another street. We were so close.

First, I noticed all the cars parked on our side of the street. They faced the wrong direction.

Correction: our car faced the wrong direction.

Before I could pull over and attempt to turn us around, a beam of blinding white hit me square in the face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS UNEDITED 
> 
> things get weirder
> 
> dallon is tall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS UNEDITED
> 
> thanks for reading xx
> 
> also how do u do italics and bold
> 
> can u not copy & paste that oof
> 
> -mhm

My life didn't really flash before my eyes. The only flash I saw came from those beaming headlights. I’m pretty sure the car didn’t kill me, anyway. My heartbeat seemed to burst through my body at lighting speed. I knew I was going to die in that second, but I couldn’t fight hard enough, and everything went black.

I woke up with a gasp. It was like my whole body filled with oxygen, except it was better than oxygen. I had the feeling of waking up from a long, happy dream and opening my eyes to a soft morning. The only difference was that I couldn’t see anything. If I’m being picky, there was another difference: I was dead.

My body stretched and pulled like hot sugar, but not too hot and not too stretchy. 

I had seen something once about these people who had bathed in water that was their exact body temperature. It made all the feeling in their bodies disappear until all they had were their thoughts for a couple hours. I was reaching a point where the only thing left of me was my mind trying to understand all this.

Everything became smooth and warm. I was still falling and falling and falling until the serenity shoved itself out of me just as soon as it began. Then, I felt myself roll across a carpeted floor. It took a moment for me to become steady and sit up. At least I wasn't in any pain. I opened my eyes to find a receptionist room that remained me of my dentist's waiting room if it were several feet smaller. When I realized I was still on the ground, I straightened out my clothes and figured it would be pretty wise to stand up. My legs felt only slightly wobbly.

There were empty chairs to my left and right. Each velvety cushion was so perfectly plump that either God had made them or no one had used them in years. Considering the ambiguity of my situation, it could have been either.

"Hey pal, I'm up here," a friendly voice teased from above me. I snapped my head up to see a woman behind a desk. She had a bright smile as if we were old friends.

I stood in awe. Was I meeting my maker?

"Are- are you God?" I asked.

"Yeah, and I also run an Amish website," the woman responded, laughing at her own joke. I still couldn't find words.

"No," she huffed. "I'm not God."

If she wasn't God, that could only leave one other option. My breath seized up.

"I'm not the devil, either!" she quickly reassured me. "I'm just Sammy. Nice to meet you!"

"What's going on?" I managed.

"Here, honey. Take this pamphlet and have a seat. It'll tell you everything."

I did as she said, admittedly with hesitation. The devil tricks people, right?

The cushion on my chair was probably the nicest thing I had ever felt in my life. My ass was in heaven. Was I allowed to think that? I apologized to God in my head, just in case. I also said a quick mental sorry for not believing.

I started to flip through the pages of the pamphlet. The words "Welcome to the Afterlife!" were on the first page, slightly off-center. Well, shit. This was kind of like Beetlejuice.

The interior had plenty of pictures and bulleted lists, but none of it was in English. In fact, I didn't recognize the language at all. I tried folding out another page that I hadn't even noticed was there at first. All of the sudden, there were hundreds of pages I was flipping through. The more I opened it up, the larger it got, and soon, the whole floor was covered with the pamphlet. I still couldn't read the language, which looked like it had magically changed to just Spanish.

"Sorry, baby," the woman at the desk called to me. "Wrong one. You'll have to excuse me. I don't get a lot of visitors. This is a very special section. Usually, we just ship everybody right off, but the brochure doesn't seem to be taking to you very well."

"Excuse me?" Her words may as well have also been in a strange language (or just Spanish).

 

"Come up here," she commanded. I stood up and walked over to her, the paper crunching beneath my feet.

"You must be very special! We can't send you to the next level of the afterlife!" She beamed at me with an almost eerie sort of pride.

"I don't understand," I managed.

"Some of the lucky ones like you and me get a special job instead of heading straight off to wherever you go when you die. Probably heaven, I think. I could be wrong, though! I really don't know. I just work here. Somebody chose me to have this job and I get to fulfill it until it's my time to leave," she explained.

"What does that mean?”

"It means that there's a reason you're not going to the real afterlife yet. This office is kind of like purgatory. Some people just have to stick around for a little bit because they have a job." She then looked down abruptly as if something happened behind the desk.

"Babe, you've got mail!" exclaimed Sammy. She pulled out an envelope from behind her desk and handed it to me. My full name was scrawled on the back in fine black calligraphy. Whatever brain function that causes me to feel surprise was a bit exhausted by then, so I didn't question it.

"There must be something very important in there," she told me. My eyes widened as she started fading like smoke right there in front of me.

"I guess I've done my job," she said with another smile. "Good luck with yours, Ryan." Then, she completely disappeared.

Before I had a chance I gather what was left of my thoughts, the floor began to sink beneath me. I desperately scrambled for a chair as the ground turned to jelly. My plan failed, and I fell anyway. Things were shaping up to be a bit too Alice In Wonderland.

I tumbled through the pitch black air without any idea how fast I was going, where I was, where I was headed, or really anything at all. It didn't scare me too much, though. I was already dead, so what was there to fear?

Hell, I guess.

That's when my nerves kicked in. I swung at the air in desperation.

An atheist in a rock band who has an ambiguous sexuality and made decisions that were often questionable didn't have much of a chance going anywhere but hell. Sammy said before that we weren't in hell, but isn't it down below the world somewhere? There was a chance I could have been falling somewhere else, but I figured that I wouldn't find out until I got there. I closed my eyes and let myself fall.

My feet hit the ground softly, but the shock of impact alone sent me tumbling across some cement. I wondered if everyone rolled around this much after dying.

I glanced down at my hands and rediscovered the letter from Sammy closed in my fist. While I ripped it open, I tried to figure out where I was. I leaned against a fence behind me. An unfamiliar cemetery was to my back and an even more unfamiliar street was in front of me. My hands shook like they always used to, but I managed to fully open the envelope anyway without tearing the letter too much.

Dear George Ryan Ross III,

Good morning! Thank you for taking the time to read this letter from your friends at Completing Angelic Deeds In Purgatory! We are a community of people who have long since been deceased. As we ourselves wait for the next level of afterlife, we run a fairly new organization from the spirit world. Our community began just over ten years ago, and is home to the most diverse population of people who have been deceased for a long period of time. Because of our organization, a great number of humans who have passed in the physical world must complete a good deed to carry on to the next stage of divinity. We select our actions of good by a system of 90% randomization, with select components tailored to the recipient, such as the language they speak. Your randomly selected action will be to help a man named Brendon Boyd Urie fall in love. We have enclosed a photo to make finding him easier. If you complete this task, we will send you to the next stage of the afterlife. If he dies before you complete this action, your situation will be reevaluated and you may have to undergo a different job. Thank you for taking part in our project for goodness! We hope to see you soon. Welcome to St. George Nevada!

\- Your friends at CADIP (Completing Angelic Deeds In Purgatory)

I reread the letter at least a hundred times. No matter how many times I did, my jaw wouldn't close. This was really the jackpot, wasn't it? I got to spend more time on Earth.

No- it might not have been the jackpot in actuality. I had no idea where St. George, Nevada was, for starters. The personalized letter could have done with a little more specificity, but it was all I had.

If I was dead, then I had nothing to lose, and I thought I might as well find this Brendon guy. Who knew? Maybe I would really help him find love. Then, I'd be onto the next stage of getting out of this trash world where I killed my friends.

Fuck, I killed my friends.

They trusted me to drive and I fucking killed them. I murdered them. I murdered my friends. We're all dead, and I might never see them again because I have no idea what the fuck is going on.

The more I let it sink in, the more my chest ached, like I carved out my heart by hand. My ears rang with pain. My brain started to suffocate itself with the static. I leaned back against the fence, and for what felt like the first time in my life, I cried. Sob after sob poured out of me with each passing thought.

How could I have fucked up so badly? I had taken life away from my three best friends in the world. I hoped that they had made it to a better place. I hoped that this place would punish me as much as I deserved.

My whole body shook with great force until I was sure I'd explode. I didn't feel dizzy or faint, though, no matter how many tears I let out. I didn't feel anything but the pain in my chest.

"Damn it," I cursed to myself. I slammed my head back against the cemetery fence. The metal was cold, but it barely even hurt for a second. As hard as I could, I threw my head back, but nothing would hurt me for more than a moment.

I deserved to die.

No, not that. I had already died. I deserved hell. Eternal suffering for what I had done.

I killed my best friends. I didn't deserve a fucking quest. I was not a savior and I was not a God and I was not an angel. I was nothing, and that was all I would ever be from then on.

In my fury, I reached for the letter and tried hard to tear it, but it wouldn't even rip. It must have been made of something stronger than anything in this world. It was still kind of a relief to at least try and demolish it. I felt a little calmer already, though not any less sad. 

The picture of the man I was supposed to help flew out of the envelope. I grabbed it and made an attempt to rip it up too, just in case I could, but it wasn't made of regular paper either. Finally, I grew tired, and I just pocketed it. I let out a heaving sigh and leaned back gently.

"Hey, are you okay?" My head shot up at the voice that came from above me.

"Sorry," I choked out. I tried to wipe away the tears that still coated my cheeks.

"It's alright," said the figure looming above me. His head was up so high that I could barely see it. I was pretty tall myself, but from the ground of course, he towered over me.

The man reached out his hand, so I took it. He was definitely taller than me- maybe even half a foot taller, but I was never really good at guessing of any sort. His dark hair flopped to one side as did his smile.

"Do you need help?" he asked me after a couple seconds passed without either of us speaking.

"Have you ever seen this man?" I asked him, displaying the picture. I figured it was worth a shot.

"No, sorry," he responded. It was probably a weird question for me to ask, but I can’t say my brain was exactly functioning properly.

"Oh. That's alright. You can go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Thank you, by the way."

"It's no problem." He gave me another lopsided small and started to walk away again.

That was awkward.

I knew I shouldn't have cared if I was dead, but I still felt that familiar sinking sensation in my stomach that made me wish I were better at talking to other people. I ran a hand through my hair until a dark brown curtain hung over my eyes. At least I would probably never see him again.

I mean, he did seem as interesting as a stranger could be. Even his walk was sort of curious. It was like he didn't really fit in his long body. I guess some people are just like that.

Jon said something about that to me one time. He pointed out how shy I acted and how weird that was because I was also really tall. I think that was one of the times where he was a little jealous that I fronted the band. We still loved each other despite our tiny but too frequent feuds. He was a good friend and an even better bass player.

I'd never hear him play again because I didn't know where he was.

Funny, I remembered my horoscope telling me I'd have better luck for the week. Instead, I was probably a ghost or something whose friends were dead and who had to find a girlfriend for some random guy. I didn't even know where to start. That seemed to be my luck. Rolling sixes when I needed sevens. My life used to move so quickly, and I always used to wish it would slow down. I didn't even have one anymore.

Maybe I was just hallucinating everything.

Maybe none of this was real.

Maybe, though, nothing was ever real. If that's the case, then what's the point of giving up on Brendon? I held up the picture so I could get a good look at it. He had a nice face. If I were a girl, I think I'd definitely have been attracted to him. My eyes squinted as the picture doubled.

No, it didn't double. He was across the street.


End file.
